


temporary shelter

by kingandqueeninthenorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Choking, F/M, Modern AU, Protective Robb, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Thrill-seeking Sansa, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:05:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5172287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingandqueeninthenorth/pseuds/kingandqueeninthenorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though Robb is certain Sansa would never admit it, she is thrill seeking. His little sister would call it childish if he even suggested that sort of behavior aloud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	temporary shelter

Ned Stark’s death hits Sansa like a ton of bricks. It gives her a headache. It keeps her up at night. It puts a permanent pit in her stomach. Death lives inside her. It eats away at her. It sits on her shoulders and whispers in her ear, making her think of sweet memories that are now soured by her father’s death. She had been happy with him here and now he is gone. The good can’t stay good without him.

Robb comes home for the funeral, and then he tells their mother that he has taken a semester off to help her out at home. Sansa stands in the dark of the hall, listening to hushed voices discussing the future.

“I’m the eldest,” Sansa hears Robb tell Catelyn. “I belong here.”

“Your education-”

“Can wait. University will always be there.”

And that’s the end of it. Sansa creeps back to her room, trying to ignore the sound of Arya in the next room, whacking at her pillow with God only knows what.

\---

“Father is still with us,” Robb tells her with his hand on her knee. He sits at the edge of her bed, leaning close and speaking softly. He points to her heart. “Here.”

Sansa knows he is trying, but it sounds cheap and unoriginal and like every other thing that anyone has tried comforting her with for the past week.

“I had thought you were above resorting to clichés.”

Her brother makes an exasperated sound. “I mean it, Sansa.” He pauses. “We have our memories and his love and we have each other.”

She bites her lip. The memories are supposed to be the good part and she knows it. But the good things are what make her sad. She can’t explain it, but it hurts worse to think of her father reading her bedtime stories when she was little than it does to think of the pained look on his face when the heart attack struck.

Every sweet recollection Sansa has is charred at the edges. She won’t ever have those good things with him again. 

 _Bittersweet,_ she realizes, finally.

\---

Though Robb is certain Sansa would never admit it, she is thrill seeking. His little sister would call it _childish_ if he even suggested that sort of behavior aloud.

First, she suggests a trip to an amusement park. She only has interest in the highest, fastest coasters. He buys them VIP passes so that they can skip to the front of the line again and again, which is exactly what Sansa wants to do.

Sansa drags Robb back into line after each ride until they’ve repeated everything ten times over. Her hair gets wild and tangled, her cheeks flushed. She moves like a flash of light from rollercoaster to rollercoaster. She only comes to a halt when Robb has his head in a trashcan, puking up their lunch of overpriced, greasy pizza.

“You need a stronger stomach,” she says from above him as she claps here hand against his back.

But the excitement of the amusement park is only good for a day. She suggests cliff diving the following weekend, to which he hesitantly agrees. He spends that whole afternoon with his heart in his throat, watching as she leaps from every peak she can climb atop.

Then he can only lean over the edge, seeking her out in the sea of little bodies who share her love of adventure in the water below. She stands out with her fiery red hair and pale skin. She always surfaces with an exhilarated scream that he comes to know very well.

Sansa spends the day jumping and squealing and begging Robb to jump in with her. She points out kids half Robb’s age, jumping in after their parents. She calls him a coward. She tells him he’s baby. She makes cooing noises. But he isn’t so easily coerced.

She returns to him after her final jump, sopping wet and smiling as she squeezes the water from her hair. Sansa is ecstatic, nearly buzzing with energy as she tells him how it feels to fall through the air and drop into the water. There is no control and she tells Robb she loves it. He can see the iron grip she has on her life loosening.

He loves to see her fire, but it hurts to know it is only masking the emptiness within her. She is trying to fill the void with adrenaline but it is no use. No matter how many times those waves envelope her, Robb knows she will surface with the same sadness she jumped in with.

As he leads Sansa back to the car, she mentions skydiving.

\---

Sansa craves more. The simple, easy thrills work at first, but they don’t last.

It isn’t very hard to talk Robb into it. He has never seemed to be able to deny her anything, and he certainly can’t now that their father is dead. Sansa knows he is putty in her hands. She works him easily, and well.

She picks the club because it is seedy and dark and no one will know them there. She also knows they’ll serve her without question and she won’t have to rely on Robb for drinks. Lately, he is more fatherly than she’d like and she already knows he will be monitoring her alcohol consumption.

At first, he hangs back at the bar. Sansa mingles with the crowd out on the floor, watching her brother from a distance. He buys a drink but he doesn’t even touch it, and though he avoids her eyes when she looks his way, Sansa knows he is watching her.

She hates how protective he has become. He only agrees to accompany her anywhere because he must watch her, she thinks. He is less of a brother these days and more of a surrogate father.  They were friends once, too, but those days are over.

She makes several attempts to bring Robb out on the floor with her, but none are successful. She gives up in the end, making her way back to the sweaty, gyrating crowd alone.

As the night wears on, the crowd grows thicker and Sansa only gets drunker. She takes shots when Robb isn’t looking and eventually she is so deep into the crowd that she loses sight of him entirely.

The freedom from her brother makes her bold, or maybe it’s the liquor. Either way, she doesn’t push the stranger’s hands away when they find her hips. With her back against him, she can see nothing but his hands. They are big and rough and his fingers sink into the soft skin of her waist as she pushes her ass back against him, grinding to the pulse of the music. He grips her like he owns her and she doesn’t even mind. The world outside of her doesn’t matter. Her head is empty and her heart is fast.

He leans over Sansa’s shoulder, his breath smelling of cigarette smoke. She puts her hand up behind her and grips his hair, feeling the sweat that has matted his hair to his scalp. Sansa moves against him with ease, but she hardly feels like she is moving at all. She may as well be a puppet on strings. She moves, he follows. He is hungry and she is too empty to feed him, but he sticks around all the same.

She closes her eyes and lets him guide her. He is rough and greedy, but she doesn’t care. She hardly has to think when it comes to dancing and that’s the way she likes it. Time actually passes when her mind is blank and her heart is pumping. She is filled with something other than grief.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been with him when Robb finds the two of them. They have somehow drifted to the edge of the floor at the fringe of the crowd, and it would seem that her brother is not thrilled to find her pushed back against a stranger with his hands digging into her breasts.

Sansa sees his face for the first time when Robb grabs him by his collar and throws him to the ground. He is far too old and far too greasy. It makes her stomach hurt a little, but she forgets that when Robb climbs on top of him. She only watches, detached, as he lands punch after punch to the man’s jaw.

She doesn’t even know why he cares. She’s seventeen now, and she isn’t his responsibility. Still, he beats the man bloody. It takes three men and Sansa screaming his name to pull Robb off.

The tallest man has Robb by the arm, eyeing him warily. Though he’s a head taller than Robb, he looks a little frightened, so Sansa intervenes. “We’re going,” she says, reaching out to Robb.

“Are you sure, miss? Your boyfriend seems a little-”

“She’s my sister,” Robb growls, shaking himself loose. Once he’s free of his grip, he grabs Sansa by the arm roughly and starts pulling her to the door. “And we are leaving.”

She drags her feet as he drags her. She’s glad it’s dark inside since she’s red in the face. _Boyfriend._

He practically shoves her outside, into the chill of the night. The door slams shut behind them, muffling the busy hum of the club. It is almost entirely silent as they stand there, staring at each other, and she can hear Robb’s still labored breathing.

“Are you proud of yourself?”

“Are _you_?” He gestures at her from top to bottom. “Look at yourself, Sansa. Not only are you dressed like a whore, but you’re acting like one.”

She has never felt smaller, standing before him in her tight little dress and sky high heels. He hadn’t said anything to her about her outfit when they left, but now she knows what he has been thinking the whole time. She feels filthy, like the older stranger’s hands had left dirty prints all over her. Worse, she can feel the heavy weight of Robb’s judgment upon her. She crosses her arms over her chest self consciously.

“You’re seventeen! He was at least thirty-five! Do you have any idea what he was thinking?” He pauses. “Do you have any idea what he wanted to do to you?”

She’s embarrassed, but she’s also angry, and her volume rises to match his. “Do _you?”_

He gives her a dry laugh, hand tangling in his own hair as he pulls at it. “I could wager a guess, yeah.”

She flushes red again. “I’m not a whore.”

“I said you were _acting_ like one.”

 _As if that’s any better, s_ he thinks. “Father is dead. I don’t need another.”

He drags a hand down his face and when he drops it, he looks like he has aged ten years. “Sansa, you’re killing me.”

“Can we just go home, then?”

“Not like this, you can’t.” Robb pulls free of his jacket, throwing it over Sansa’s shoulders roughly. “You would give mother a heart attack.”

They had crept from the house together not long after their mother retired to her room. She hopes Catelyn is managing a full night’s sleep, as Sansa is in no mood to face her wrath if she wakes to see her outfit.

“And you must promise me that this recklessness is done. There will be no more strange men groping you in bars or clubs or anywhere at all.”

“Okay.”

In stark contrast to the manhandling he had given her earlier, Robb puts an arm around Sansa as he walks her to the car. She leans into him a little, but only a little.

\---

Sansa’s unruliness slows some in the weeks that follow. She doesn’t ask to go anywhere and she avoids Robb when she can, which does not go unnoticed.

He still watches her, because he is her older brother and he is concerned and worse, he’s sure she is still up to no good.

He sits at the kitchen table most of the time, watching his mother and his siblings go about their business from the best vantage point he has.

Rickon is rowdy and restless, wailing for their mother more often than not. She gives in every time. She coddles him, giving him most all her attention. When she isn’t holding him in her arms, he is at her feet, tugging at her pencil skirt. He follows Catelyn everywhere.

Bran is quiet. He talks to Robb about things, but he talks to Jojen and Meera more. He often walks next door to see them, staying until dinner or well past dark. He seems to enjoy escaping their tomb of a house, and Robb can’t fault him for that.

Arya’s pain in the most visible, as she is full of rage and anger that presents itself in both tantrums and silence. She is wild and unpredictable. Sometimes, she disappears for long stretches that send Catelyn into a panic. Robb always finds her walking around the neighborhood, chasing cats and birds as if she has any hope of catching them. It doesn’t make sense to him, but it is better than seeing her stab so violently at Micah during their fencing lessons.

Sansa begins spending more time with Margaery Tyrell than Jeyne Poole. Robb doesn’t necessarily disapprove, as Margaery is a sweet girl, if a little fast. But she is older and more experienced. Regardless, it does not seem to take Sansa long to catch up to the older girl’s speed.

Sansa begins staying out late with her, coming home with smudged lipstick and smelling strongly of alcohol. It seems like a normal, high school activity for a girl of her age, but Robb worries all the same.

He sits at the table most nights, watching her stumble in at all hours. He waits up for her so that their mother doesn’t have to. Catelyn would no doubt be harder on her than he is.

He lets all of that go without much conflict. But then Sansa starts returning home with boys on her arm, which Robb does _not_ let go. He scares them off every time, much to Sansa’s displeasure.

But never one to accept defeat, she begins bringing a boy by during daylight hours, when she is sober and smiling. She introduces him to the family, playing like he is her boyfriend, but Robb knows better. His name is Harry and Robb recognizes him from when he scared him off a week ago.

Sansa is certainly smart, because Robb cannot shove him away now. It wouldn’t be proper.

Harry lasts two weeks. And then there seems to be an endless string of boys after that. Robb forgets most of their names. It hardly matters, as they last no time at all.

\---

When Jon comes home for the winter holiday, he brings his new girlfriend he met at university, Ygritte. She is a friend of Marg’s, which means she is a friend of Sansa’s. So when Ygritte suggests a party at Margaery’s, Sansa just has to be there.

She’s in between boys at the moment, with no real regular fuck on her schedule. Harry can always be relied on for a last minute hookup, but she’s tired of him and he’s not as good in bed as sme of the other have been. That doesn’t suit her very well, so Margaery suggests she really does herself up for the party in hopes of securing a new fuckbuddy.

She wears a fitted dress with nothing underneath, her hair pulled into a high ponytail. She wings her eyeliner and puts on red lipstick before emerging from Margaery’s room. She feels much older than seventeen, most of the time, but at a party with mostly university aged boys, she is a little lost.

Before she has even made it down the hall, Margaery catches her by the arm and yanks her into the bathroom before slamming the door shut and locking it behind them.

“I didn’t invite him, I swear.”

“Who?”

“Joffrey.”

Sansa cringes. He had been her first boyfriend, even before Margaery introduced her to boys. His words had been harsh and his hand had been hard, so she broke it off before he had the chance to give her a black eye. Robb had threatened to kill him when Sansa confessed everything to him, crying.

And then shortly after, Margaery had dated him. He _had_ given her a black eye, so she ended it too. Much to Sansa’s surprise, there was a bond to be forged from despising the same boy, and their friendship had blossomed from there.

“I can’t stay,” Sansa says, a nervous knot forming in her belly.

Margaery grips her hands in a comforting gesture. “I can get some of the boys to kick him out, I’m sure of it. Ygritte can help.”

Sansa likes Ygritte well enough. She is good for Jon, at the very least. She is spunky and as fiery haired as Sansa herself. She is loud and she is just a foul mouthed as the worst of the boys.

“I don’t want to cause a scene.”

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the bathroom door. Sansa jumps before she recognizes Ygritte’s voice. “Maragery? We need more vodka.”

Marg rolls her eyes. “I’m coming! Give me a second!”

They stay quiet until they hear Ygritte’s footsteps retreating down the hall.

“I’ll be right back,” Margaery assures, giving Sansa an encouraging squeeze. She slips out the door, leaving Sansa alone in the bathroom.

Sansa fidgets nervously. She turns on the sink to cover the sound of her voice, in case anyone is listening. She dials Robb with shaky fingers.

He picks up on the second ring, his voice anxious. “What’s wrong?”

She wants to roll her eyes at his constant state of panic, but she needs him and for once she’s thankful he’s on high alert. “Can you come get me?”

_“What’s wrong?”_

“Joffrey is here and I just want to leave.”

“Where are you?”

“Margaery’s.”

“Five minutes, Sansa. Wait for me outside.”

She ends the call and slips from the bathroom, headed for the front door. She would explain herself to Marg later, but for now, she just wanted to stand outside in the cold.

As far from Joff as she could get.

But it was a long walk from the bathroom in the back to the front of the house, especially through thick crowds of hot bodies. It was Harry who spotted her first, grabbing her hand and pulling her off into the living room, where she could see Margaery and Ygritte standing very close together.

“Help me with something,” Harry says by way of explanation.

“What is-”

Before she can finish, she sees that not only are Ygritte and Margaery standing closely together, but Marg has her hand in Ygritte’s hair. And more than that, they’re kissing.

“While this is most definitely very satisfactory, I would be much more inclined to get the vodka for you if the lovely _Sansa_ took part in this.”

Sansa looked at Harry in confusion.

“Marg has asked me to go out for more vodka, and I told her that I would need some persuading.” Harry is no doubt pleased with himself, smirking at her as though he is some master manipulator.

Sansa laughs and it is a bubbling, nervous sound. But it doesn’t look so bad and she knows them both. After all, girls are far more tolerable than men in her opinion. Even better, it’s taboo and unfamiliar territory, which lately, is something Sansa appreciates more and more. 

_What is there to lose?_

She dives into the girl pond headfirst. Ygritte goes for Sansa’s neck and Margaery finds her lips. It’s just the same as it would be with a boy, but they are softer and slower, with their attentions towards more the feminine preferences. There is no race to the finish line as there is with a boy. The lack of testosterone is surprisingly pleasant.

Sansa is lost in the velvet of Ygritte’s mouth when she hears the previously pounding room go silent. Margaery pulls away from Sansa’s ear as Sansa opens her own eyes to see Robb with a clenched jaw and a disapproving stare.

“I thought I told you to wait outside.”

This time, Sansa has brought on her own trouble, so she pulls away from the other two girls. She disentangles herself from Margaery’s hair and Ygritte’s hands. She had called Robb and now he was here, as she had asked, and there was nothing she could blame on her brother.

“Are you leaving?” Ygritte asks in confusion. “When all the fun is starting?”

Once again, Robb grabs Sansa by the arm and begins pulling her away.

“I have to go,” Sansa calls back to them as she follows Robb to the door. “I’ll call you!”

As soon as he has put her in the car and starts pulling away from Margaery’s drive, Sansa feels the shame settle over her.

“Robb-”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear it. But you’re going to hear me.”

She sits there feeling stupid, waiting for him to reprimand her.

“Let me preface this by saying that if you want to kiss girls, then I want you to kiss girls. But I want you to kiss girls because _you want to_ and not because there is a horny boy standing beside you, egging you on.”

“Please, Robb, I feel stupid enough already.”

“Doing these things for other people’s amusement is not going to make you forget father. Filling your life with a thousand different types of thrills is not going to make you feel better. You are _never_ going to feel better if you don’t face this and stop burying yourself under other emotions.”

Sansa can feel tears welling in her eyes.

“You are going to have to acknowledge grief.”

She looks away from him for the rest of the car ride, pretending that Robb can’t see her tears in her reflection in the dark window.

\---

Robb does not ask why Sansa is ignoring Margaery. It isn’t his place.

He wishes he could ignore what he saw, but it comes to mind late at night, and sometimes in the early morning when he is hard as a rock and trying to forget about it.

But Margaery rings the home phone off the hook when she takes the hint that Sansa won’t be answering her own phone any time soon. Robb tries to ignore the endless, constant ringing, but it does no good. The sound fills his head every thirty minutes on the dot.

So he knocks on Sansa’s bedroom door and when she doesn’t answer, he just pushes his way in anyway. She is lying there in bed, staring at the ceiling with tear tracks running down her cheeks. He doesn’t say anything but he does sit beside her, waiting for her to say something.

She doesn’t say anything. Instead, her hand creeps out of her blankets and then skims along his thigh until she reaches his dick and he shivers.

He catches her hand, lifting it up and away. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she says, looking at him and fluttering her eyelashes innocently.

“Sansa,” he groans in frustration. His little sister is a spiraling, out of control mess. “You can’t keep doing things like this.”

She huffs, dropping the innocent sister act. “Do you want me to find another boy? Some stranger?”

 _What is she even asking of me?_ He only knows that he can answer her question truthfully, so he does. “No.”

“I don’t want to either.”

As if that’s some sort of acceptable reason to put your hand on your brother’s cock, she goes back to doing what she had started to before.

“Sansa…”

“What are you so worried about?”

He can’t answer that.

She spits in her hand and Robb’s stomach drops. She works at the button of his jeans and then throws her blanket over them to hide her hand as it searches for his cock. If they can’t see it, maybe that’s better. He doesn’t know. When her hand slips in his pants to wrap her fingers around him, he decides he doesn’t really care.

Sansa is sure of herself, and Robb can imagine she has had much practice at this, which isn’t something he is glad for. She works her hand up and down, giving a half twist occasionally that makes Robb hiss. Her hand slips along him easily, working him in long, even pumps.

His heart jumps into his throat, breathing coming ragged between parted lips. She holds his gaze the whole time, looking impassive and cool as though they weren’t doing what they were doing. This could’ve been a poetry reading for as much as it seemed to be affecting her.

But it was affecting him. However uninterested Sansa seemed, she was taking notice of his reactions and responding accordingly. Robb finishes far more quickly than he does on his own, shooting into Sansa’s hand like an overly eager teen boy she’s never been with before.

He starts to flush. He’s ashamed of himself for cumming so quickly and ashamed that he let his sister bring him to climax. He readjusts himself inside his jeans and then zips himself up so quickly that Sansa yelps as the zipper catches the skin of her finger.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. He practically falls out of her bed and onto the floor.

“What’s wrong, Robb?” Her voice is soft and whispery as she looks at him with innocent eyes as wide as saucers. She looks like a blameless seventeen year old until she raises her hand to her mouth and licks it clean with her tongue.

He walks away from her on shaky legs, certain he is going to die from the sight of her licking him off her palm.

If that doesn’t kill him, God might strike him down himself.

\---

Sansa tells him the name of a bar way out of town. She doesn’t even know why he agrees to take her but he does.

It seems a repeat of last time, but this time, he just watches Sansa grind on the floor alone. She doesn’t let anyone take her by the hips and she doesn’t let anyone near her back. Instead, she just lets the light catch her from all angles, auburn hair whipping and hips swaying.

It’s enough to tempt her brother out on the floor with her. It’s Robb who takes her by the hips and plants his leg between hers. She grinds on him then, knowing there’s no reason to fear stray hands finding her now. Robb has staked his claim and she knows all the other strangers will stay away.

She feels her pussy getting wet as she rubs herself on his jeans, the friction rough against her clit as she has forgone panties for easy access. Robb can feel it too, she knows, as he runs his hand up her side and over the swell of her breast to her neck.

Nobody knows them here. It is greasy and grimy and dark and dingy but they were safe here, in the dark. They could be a boy and his girl, rather than a brother and a sister.

So when he lays a hand on her stomach and brings her to the wall behind them, she is quick to cave. She allows his lips on her neck and his hand on her breast.

\---

Sansa likes it rough.

Truth be told, so does Robb, but something feels wrong about handling Sansa that way. Obviously, all of it should feel wrong, as she is his sister and he shouldn’t be handling her at all. But he does it anyway and there is no excuse and he won’t bother making one up.

She never s _ays_ she likes it rough, but she is hard where he is not and he fills in the blanks from there. She gives him loud moans and gasping cries when he isn’t gentle with her. He finds it a little disturbing that she can only seem to feel it when he is pounding against her.

He doesn’t dwell on it much.

He puts a hand on her back and shoves her cheek to the mattress, forcing her legs apart with his knee. He feels her shiver and he positions himself and then enters her with little prelude. He slaps her ass and grips her shoulder, bringing her against him with every thrust.

When he feels her insides quaking, he pulls out of her and flips her onto her back, securing a hand around her throat. He tightens his grip as he pushes into her slowly, slowly, watching her expression change from surprise to _want._ He can see her aching for it as he sinks deeper, eyes fluttering in relief when he fills her completely. He thinks she might gasp for air, but the breathlessness intensifies everything.

And then he takes up a brutal pace, making her moan with delight.

\---

Sansa’s mood improves with time. Her nights with Robb taper off and her appetite for the illicit slows. She starts calling Margaery again, making plans to shop and go out for sushi. They go ice skating and Marg introduces her to an older friend named Jaime, who is happy to take Sansa out to dinner and buy her flowers.

It’s a nice change of pace.

She flits in and out of her house as she pleases, ignoring Robb sitting at the kitchen table and pining for her. He had been right weeks ago when she had said she could not spend all her time doing the things that she had been doing. They were emptying her, and she had started with so little left to lose.

 _You can’t keep doing things like this,_ he had said. So she stops.

\---

Robb allows her to introduce Jaime Lannister. He takes his hand with a firm grip, wishing he could choke the life from him. He is horribly jealous and he hates himself for it. It isn’t proper. He can’t hold onto the feelings he has when Sansa has clearly moved on.

“Don’t you think he’s a little old for you?”

She gives him a look. “He’s good to me.”

Robb purses his lips, trying to disguise his disapproval.

He watches her leap at every text message he sends. She is always quick to respond. She never leaves him waiting when he drives up outside the house and honks twice. Her wardrobe grows more modest, her hairstyles more elegant. This is not a lusty relationship, he can see. There might be love there, though he can’t bring himself to ask.

_It’s for the best._

In time, he thinks, he might start to believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> Always accepting prompts if you ever would like to leave one in the comments!


End file.
